A Hearth to Warm Her
by TapTapTap
Summary: Holly is a Healer on the front lines of the war between Valdemar and Karse. When she saves the life of a young man from her haunted past, will she have the strength to surrender her feelings...in order to do what's right?
1. Hello Regret

I : Hello Regret

I was looking for the source of all the bleeding. Not with my eyes – the lighting in the Healer's tent was as good as it could get, but it still wasn't much. Mid afternoon, mage storms constantly blocking out the sun. Those were damn pesky things, to heavily understate matters. They slowed not only the progress of the war in a very real weather sense, but they also caused so much magical interference that healing the sick and injured was harder than tying shoelaces in the dark. But still, my fingers could look at the insides of a person much better than my eyes.

I had sometimes had to resort to the old fashioned way of investigating wounds, but it can get very messy when you cut people open to find out what's going wrong. With this touch no new wounds have to be made, no stitches. Not a lot of healers have the energy reserves to muck about inside without any knife at all, but I do. I have lots of emotions to toss on the fire, and the fire becomes green, and the green fire is what heals. With this touch I see in my mind through skin, through muscles, even down to bones. And in such detail. I can see the insides of arteries. The function of the lungs, as the tiny sacks that make them expand and deflate. The beating of a heart. But this time, I was inside a man's abdomen, looking for the source of the bleeding.

He was young, couldn't be more than 20. We were the same age, actually. He was a Herald, fresh from the front lines, from an epic skirmish with some Karasite mages. Someone had stuck a sword into his side, through and through. It was a large and obvious injury; the entrance wound was a three-inch-long slice that welled blood like a spring. My fingers told me that below that, inside him, the sword had missed his liver, which was higher. It had miraculously managed not to perforate his bowel, but instead merely pushed it aside. Unfortunately, the blade had caused one major injury; it had nearly severed his left kidney from its' blood source. The organ was dying, and he was bleeding out. That answered the question.

I drew energy from within myself and channeled it down my fingers, through the seeping blood, down to its' source. It was a clean slice, and in my mind I saw the artery that supplied blood to the kidney reattach itself. The organ quickly changed color from slightly grey-ish to healthy pink again. Thanks to the damned storms it was like seeing through static, thinking through the cotton balls that filled my mind and made the inside of my mouth taste like copper. If I focused completely I could push pass the fog, but the effort was enormous. I checked that there were no gaps in the vessel's joint to the organ. I encouraged the tissues in his abdomen to reabsorb the free blood, which it did obligingly. The wound stopped bleeding. Finally I bound the gashes in his side together, telling flesh to knit as it once was, to heal smoothly. The energy continually flowed out of me, leaving me empty and cold. I didn't much care. Once it was done, then I could worry about collapsing from exhaustion.

While I worked someone wiped my brow once. I distantly heard the low voices of other healers. I felt people inspecting, with their own gifts, the progress I was making. Toward the end another healer (her energy was familiar to me, but I didn't bother to think further than that) put her hand on my shoulder. Gratefully I accepted the power she offered. That flowed into and immediately through me, to get the job done.

The process took over two candlemarks. It wasn't until his wound was closed and I felt certain that his vitals were stable that I saw his face. Even drawn in pain, it was handsome – his hair was a surprising shade of red, and stuck out on his head in all sorts of impractical directions. Despite this, it wasn't untidy, just…a bit amazing. He had a strong, square jaw that hinted at a stubborn streak. His brows were heavy but not unfriendly. He was a few days unshaven, which made sense, seeing as shaving isn't a necessity when people are trying to kill you. And although I didn't see his eyes, I knew they would be a dark grey, large, and attractive.

I knew this, because it was him. It was the man who had ruined my life. And I'd saved his, right here on this table, in the middle of a big, stupid war.

Damn.

……………………………….

A/N – Hello, dear reader, you possibly non-existent person you. I hope you don't get the wrong idea from this first, short chapter. It's not a medical drama. I don't even like ER (not anymore anyway), although I've still got a soft spot in my heart for Grey's Anatomy.

No, at the end of the whole thing, I'll tell you why this story needed to be written. Mysteries! I know. It won't make any sense until you read the ending. Enjoy that, I hope you get there.

I'm happy to take suggestions on my writing. This is my first fiction since high school, and I'm a year out of college now, so…that was a while ago. I don't promise to follow through with your suggestions, because I am an iartiste/i, but grammer? Spelling? Critiques relating to my long, wordy, thoughtful paragraphs….very welcome indeed. All this and other things, of course. Don't want to limit a helping hand. Just know that there are elements to this (secret, mysterious elements) that are not subject to change. 3

So, welcome to the drama. On to chapter two.


	2. Past Acquaintances

II – Past Acquaintances

"No, Tory, I'm not going with him."

She smiled indulgently at me as I paced around the mess tent like a caged animal. She'd seen me in rages before, but I don't think she realized how serious I was being in my objection. What she said next made me sure.

"Oh, he can't be all that bad." Tory rolled her eyes to make her point and then placed them back on the pages of the book she was pretending to read. While the front few tables were occupied with Healers and the walking wounded eating their meals, the ones closest to the soup pots and cooks were empty. Except for this table, furthest from everyone, where Tory sat reading and I paced about. It was a rare lull in the almost constant flood of war victims, and those who weren't eating here were trying to catnap in their personal tents, or catch up on 'leisure' activities like reading.

There were lots of tents out here; two mess tents, twenty or so personal tents for healers and under-healers to sleep in, three large Healer's tents where the wounded slept and were healed, and a few miscellaneous ones to store supplies, food, and canvas for more tents if necessary. The idea was to keep it mobile; if the front lines moved toward them, they could relocate relatively easily. The only semi-permanent structures were the stables (as most horses needed more structure to keep them around than a tent-flap would provide). Even that was barely four walls and a few wooden partitions.

The war was ferocious, and we were sustaining heavy casualties; if it weren't for the field hospital many more lives would have be lost.

Tory, as I had noticed earlier, was only keeping up the appearance of reading. Her favorite subject was not between the pages of the book, but me. I fascinated her, it seemed. "He's good looking." She said, as if that made him more bearable to be around.

"You don't know this story." I growled.

"Well tell it to me then."

"No." I huffed. "Yesterday you spent all your free time figuring out my life's minutia. He's not even an interesting part of my life."

She merely peered at me over the top of her book and smiled a toothy grin. There was a look in her eye that was very near malicious. "If you don't tell me, I'll have to write you up for insubordination. I outrank you, kitten. You know Merin? He's my brother." She grinned wider when the stubborn look on my face slid right into surprise and dread. Merin was Chief Healer here…and not a very forgiving character. She waited a beat before saying, with finality, "That objection you made, to following my orders? How rude of you. You should make it up to me." Her voice was mocking, but there was just edge enough for me to believe she might, actually, find a way to make my life harder than it was. At least she would threaten to. Merin was an unknown factor; the once I had met him he'd frowned deeply at me, told me "one toe out of line and I'll send you packing" and pointed me to my private tent. They needed me here, yes, but I had a history. Plus…Tory was the only person I'd met who had seemed at all interested in me. Far too interested in the manner of a nosey neighbor, but sometimes I almost felt we had some kind of camaraderie going. She was all I could count as a friend out here. And I was a sad, lonely fish out of water, very far from home.

"I'll tell you a part of the story, but that's it." I said guardedly, not meeting her eyes. "It starts with how I became a healer." Tory looked up from her book and closed it.

"Oh! That's worth hearing. I've heard pretty much everyone else's. My favorite part is how the powers creep up on people and then bam! Was there a wounded little animal you healed? Or was your first healing a person? Or did you just have a knack with herbs that was a little too keen? Was it _traumatic_?" She was totally into it now, and seemed to relish the thought of me in crisis.

I blanched a bit, feeling awkward. There were a lot of things that were better kept between my own ears. I decided to give Tory and condensed…and partially fabricated version of the truth.

"Well, you know where I come from?" I began hesitantly.

"Some holding to the west, right?" Most people didn't even know that. Most people didn't know anything about me, but Tory _was_ dedicated to the mystery that was me.

"Yeah," I smiled a little, memories bright in my mind's eye, "a place called Sweetwater. It was…is…beautiful. Well, I was apprenticed to a cook when I lived there. Then the war got worse…you know."

Everyone knew that. About two years into what had been a low-level but ceaseless combat with the neighboring country of Karse, things had taken a deeply sinister turn. The Karasites made a move on the Valdemaran throne. No one had thought it possible. An army – larger than any that had been seen before and headed by _five_ powerful blood-mages had camped at the border, all while sending a "peace" emissary to the King's Court in Valdemar's capital city of Haven. The emissary was a child of ten. He said the army on our doorstep would not attack if only we would consider signing some suspiciously drawn up papers he'd brought with him. Still, the emissary was so young…below suspicion, we had thought, and none had expected him to be an adept little sneak with a pocket full of poison. The goblet had been on the King's very lips when the King's Own, his most trusted advisor and friend, shouted a warning, feeling his own hands beginning to shake and his vision blur. He had, of course, tested the wine first. The King's Own was dead by morning.

It had been a very close call for the King, and a great loss for the Court and the Country to have lost such a brave and loyal King's Own. Assassins were the lowest of criminals, and Valdemar would never stoop to such underhanded warfare…but they had been foolish to overlook the possibility that Karse would embrace such means, by poison no less – the coward's sword. Further interrogation of the assassin had revealed the full extent of the Karasite threat. The rulers of Karse were desperate to expand their territory, to bring more into their "Holy Fold" and under the rule of their God King. And if some died while "salvation" and "liberation" were brought to the rest, they saw this as a very acceptable sacrifice. In reaction to the looming doom threatening our land more sons and daughters of Valdemar were called to bear arms.

At the time the trade routes with nearby countries had been strong, but after hearing of the near-assassination of our king, loyalties swayed. Trade negations closed. It looked as though Karse may have allies in their war – and whether that new loyalty was bought with fear or money it didn't much matter to us. Against the overwhelming numbers the Karasites could amass to fill the ranks of their armies, we didn't look like such a strong bet to some. The Karasites saw us, some told, as an excellent stepping-stone to larger neighboring countries like Rethwellen to the South. We looked to be a small country, landlocked, unimpressive. Those who saw Valdemar in this light did not fully appreciate our magical leverage. Valdemar was protected and patrolled by magically gifted citizen's called Heralds, who also were pouring in from the countryside and city alike, called to aid in the great war with the help of their powers. Some could shake the earth, hear inside a person's mind, start a firestorm…so many frightening things.

_If the Karasites had their way we'd all be worshiping their god-ruler, killing those among us born with mind gifts, and chasing the Companions from their Field – calling them Demon Horses!_ Even the thought of calling a Companion a horse was laughable…they were impossibly more than just four white legs and a tail. Their minds were human, their feelings were human, but rumor had it that they knew more than any human ought to, about any number of things. Heralds may ride their Companions as though they were horses, but the two were a team; a united, powerful force backed by magic and careful training.

I was wool gathering, and Tory was watching me attentively. I cleared my throat.

"Well," I continued my narrative, "when the war got worse, the cook seemed to think I had a gift with the herbs she used for cooking, and thought maybe I'd be good for herbalism. For healing with plants. She'd been friends with the local midwife and seen what herbalism could do to a wound. Maybe I'd be able to help those who were suffering the effects of the war. I thought it was an interesting idea, and I thought it would be better to help us keep our country free than sit around and make soup."

"Ha, so it was like that! A knack with herbs. I'd guessed that, remember?" Tory said a little smugly.

"Yes yes, you're very smart." I snorted. "Anyway, I went to the Collogium with recommendations of my cook and the Lord of Sweetwater. They thought those learned people could point me to the best herbalist in the area. But once I met the head of the Healer's College (it was Richern Verdros, at the time) he sensed I had potential and tested me for Gifts. Turns out I was a Healer. He said I would be a strong one, but it took time for it to develop fully in me, and there'd been no real hint of it up till that point. So I began training at the Collogium." I narrowed my eyes.

"THAT lout, his name is Daimon. Daimon told me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. That my eyes were like sapphires, like his own beautiful Companion's eyes. That my hair was like corn silk. That my lips were red as raspberries."

"Raspberries?" Tory giggled, trying not to sound _too_ incredulous.

"Yes. You don't see the resemblance in my description?" I frowned a little. My hair was blond, but perhaps less like corn silk and more like over-baked cornbread, or poorly filtered honey. Lots of brown with some yellowish highlights. The sun did the yellow, mostly. And my eyes were more green than blue. I wasn't overwhelmingly beautiful, but I thought of myself as pretty enough. It didn't matter.

"No, no, Holly. I'm sure you bowled him over." She assured me quickly, patting my hand. I swallowed and put my hands in the pockets of my green robe.

"Well, he was infatuated with me, in any case. For a while I thought he was teasing me, that he didn't mean it. After all, he was a Herald-trainee. He'd powers I couldn't dream of and my own weren't anything noticeable yet. But he was so…arduous. When I realized how serious he was I thought it was kind of flattering but I wasn't interested. At all."

"Not at all? Because really." Tory's expression grew a little distant and a feral look crept into his eye. "If I hadn't heard he had a girl out there on the front lines, I'd try to trick him into my bed. He has massive hands, have you noticed?" She wiggled her eyebrows at me and showed her teeth.

"You wouldn't have to trick him, you've got your charms, Tory." And she did. Tall, muscular in a wiry, knows her way around a sword (or a scalpel) kind of way with short cropped black that framed her face. Of course she seemed more like a feral wolf than a woman to me, most of the time, but that was only because I was her prey. And of course when she entered the Healer's Tent she was neither wolf nor woman – she was a Healer Adept.

"He's handsome obviously, but he's just not my type." I coughed.

"Well, we'll have to discuss what that type _is_ some time later. I'm sure you don't hate him just because he had a crush on you. That's like kicking a puppy for licking your boots."

"No, I told you I thought it was flattering, but it was as though one day he was constantly hovering about me and the next day…he wasn't. It was like the flip of a coin. He wouldn't have anything to do with me. What's more, he began to say things about me behind my back to his fellow trainees. Cruel things. Mostly about appearance, but no longer in a flattering way."

"Oh Holly, I'm sorry." Tory sighed. "Boys can be so mean. Especially young ones. I remember being at the Collogium too. It's a messy, emotional place to be. Young people in love! Coming of age and all that."

"Yeah." I said, grimacing. "He never told me why. It hurt. When I would walk into the same room as him he'd make a face and then an exit." I sat down, regretting telling her anything at all about my past. Not entirely regretting it, because Tory was nice enough in a terrifying sort of way. But talking about myself always made me feel worse, not better. It was more than a little sad how clearly I still remembered the words that had filtered back to me.

"So was that was makes him so bad? The things he said about you?" Tory asked tentatively. She just couldn't help herself. She couldn't stand her own curiosity.

"Well, that, and he had a terribly wicked side. Practical jokes. Like water in a bucket on a door so it falls on your head. And worse things. He would pull pranks on other people and somehow engineer it so the blame fell on me instead of him. As though I would ever do something so childish and mean-spirited! Thanks to him I developed a reputation for cruel pranks, and lost a lot of friends. Made a lot of enemies, including a few teachers who came to believe I had a sadistic side unbefitting a healer. Daimon made my time at the Collogium a personal version of Zanrdu's hell.

But I'm over it now. I'm an adult. I've grown up and he doesn't have any power over me. He's just some stupid bully…who seems to be everyone's hero now that he's a great famous Herald who survived a nasty wound on the front lines." I said gruffly.

"Oh, I see." Tory said. She didn't really, because I hadn't told her the worst part. Although all that I'd said had been true, it was also true that I had moved on long ago. What he'd done didn't endear me to him, but I didn't truly hold his past childish behavior against him anymore. What made me boil when I looked at his big, ugly face involved a very critical bit of my history that I would never tell her, no matter how much she pried. It was a secret so dear to me it was like a hole in my heart.

"Well," she sighed, "Since you _are_ an adult, you realize then that no matter how bad he was to you _then_, you have to work with him as a colleague now."

I was fighting the urge to be childlike, to scrunch up my face and stamp my foot. Instead I just crossed my arms and sat down. Tory's tone turned plaintive.

"You know you're among the best we've got. And absolutely no one else can heal wounds so extensive, even me! Your reserves are unmatched – you can heal all day long and hardly break a sweat."

"Hardly. I was only able to close his wounds because you helped." I said. It had been her, now that I thought about the energy that had come into me. It had been…flavored with her. That seemed strange, but each person's energy takes on some characteristics of the person. Tory's was spicy like cinnamon. Hard to miss once I thought about it. And so strong. She was the best of us all, but she made an effort not to make us feel inferior.

"Well, you have your faults of course. You hardly wake up until two in the afternoon, and you snore like a pig, and you eat like a horse what with all the energy you're burning in the Healer's tent. Don't get a big head or anything." I took back the flattering thought I'd had about her before. "But if any healer can help up there, it's you, honestly. I know you don't like this Daimon guy, but if he's telling the truth…and he is a Herald, he's very unlikely to lie…then there are children in a village who need your help. Who's going to help them if not you?"

"But does it have to be him? Couldn't this happen to someone else?" I muttered, knowing it was fruitless. They were kids. I knew I had to help. The report was as disturbing as it was vague…Daimon said his Companion, Melah, had sensed a great darkness looming over a town they had passed far to the North of the field hospital. Daimon, whose gifts included empathy, could sense the pain of those within the village, and his other strong gift of mindspeech heard the cries of the children. The sensations had buffeted him like breakers in the ocean, maddening with their intensity and his own helplessness. He had been too injured to be of any use to anyone, bleeding to death as he was. His Companion nearly killed herself in the hurry to get to field hospital, and a few miles from it had managed to catch a large rock in the frog of her hoof that the left her limping, and would have made her lame. She was recovering in the stables, but could not carry any weight now that her insane flight to the hospital was over. Once the two had limped in and their wounds were tended, Daimon had explained what they had sensed, but their story could not be corroborated by any other Herald recuperating at the hospital. They sensed nothing in the direction Daimon had come. To be fair, none of the injured Heralds had mind-speech as strong as Daimon's, and even if they had, the town was quite far away and most powers were only strong in relation to proximity. Daimon insisted the situation was extremely urgent but there were no Herald's within the field hospital who were fit to ride the long journey. Daimon grimly promised it would be just that, a long and very difficult journey. He had only survived the distance because he'd been astride a Companion and not an ordinary horse. A Companion can run far faster than any normal steed, and when truly determined, faster than an arrow can fly. The three-day journey was less than one on the back of a Companion near crazed with worry for the survival of her Herald.

Still, a Herald had to deal with whatever threat may lurk in the village in the North. To call a Herald from the frontlines was madness – we needed all the help out there we could get. To call for one all the way out in Haven was equal foolishness. But thanks to my heroic healing session I had managed to thoroughly patch Daimon up the day he'd arrived, so it seemed that Daimon alone could lead a healer to the beleaguered village. After all, he was the only person who knew where it was. And as the healer with the best energy reserves I was the natural choice to accompany him. No one else could be spared at the field hospital – as it was, the remaining Healers would be stretched to their limits in my absence.

I knew I had to set my personal feelings aside and focus on the task. Focus on the children who were suffering from some mysterious torture. And maybe if I just didn't talk to Daimon or look at his face for the three-day ride, the hole in my heart wouldn't open any wider and I could just quietly bleed to death inside. That'd be fine.

Tory had been watching my face and seemed to smugly recognize that she'd won the argument. She was just about to say more when a little healer's aid came running in the tent. Simultaneously a loud bell began to toll outside, signaling incoming victims. They only rang it after a break longer than several candlemarks, else it would be ringing nearly constantly and deafen them all.

"Two new Heralds comin' from the front, Missus! And a few soldier's made it back worse for wear too." She said in a high, clear voice before running off to tell the second mess tent the news.

Tory groaned and got to her feet. "I don't think you're done." she said, giving me a critical glare. I frowned at her.

"That's all you get this time. Come on, there's work to do." I grimaced, and neatly sprinted for the doorway.

……………………………………….

A/N – So, you understand a lot of this was necessary plot background, and a little awkward to fit into a conversation. I don't want to write a book…I can feel this story would LIKE to be a book, but that's not an option since it's fanfiction. So bite it, story. I have to shove more into it than I'd like.

Those of you aware of Mercedes Lackey chronology and cannon…no, I don't know when this is. After Vanyel is all the help I can offer. Obviously Karse is a bit of a problem. I wouldn't mind some suggestions on where to plop this into the cannon timeline, as in the last chapter I'll have to involve the "King" (or Queen, if that's who's ruling, I don't mind changing that a bit). Alternately I could make it all up. That's what writing's about! 3

Please, keep reading. You get to meet Mr. Fancy Pants Herald properly in the next chapter. Don't you want to see if he's a big, stinking jerk? Yeah you do.

Read, Review, and continue!


	3. The Ties That Bind

III – The Ties That Bind

In the morning I woke, dressed, and began to pack the saddlebags for the trip north. It didn't take long as I forced myself to pack as lightly as possible. I didn't want the horse to be overburdened, and we needed to make good time. We would be slowed down enough as it was by Daimon; with his injury he was as much a burden as a guide. I packed rations, flasks of water, flint, a rolled canvas mat, and a single change of clothes. My hands shook a little as I reached into the pocket of my green healer's robes and retrieved the thin, silver chain that went everywhere I did. It was exquisitely crafted, each link twisted by hand and separated by a tiny seed pearl. I tried not to think about what it meant to me as I rolled my blanket around it and stuffed that, too, into the bag. Once the chain was packed I felt as though some weight was lifted off my shoulders. It would be a huge loss for me to realize the chain had been jostled from my pocket as I rode. Better it be tucked up safe. I carried my bags outside.

Daimon was waiting for me by the makeshift stockade.

On the left hand side of it the waiting Companions were kept as comfortable as possible; oats, hay, doors without latches, the works. Companions were whiney folk, sometimes. They could speak to their Heralds, within their minds, and if they chose they could speak to any normal person too, in the same manner. They would do if so if they felt they were being much abused. Oh boo hoo, my hay doesn't smell perfectly sweet. Or oh no, my oats are a little too crunchy today. I suppose part of all that irritability was simply the agony of knowing that their Heralds were injured and there was nothing that they could do about it. Healers are used to complaints, it's part of the job, so we always take whining in stride. We do what we can (within reason) to make the Companions feel at home.

On the right hand side the ordinary horses were stabled in similar conditions, but with doors that were very secure of course. Daimon had tacked up a sorrel mare and a tall, black gelding for himself, his own saddlebags already strapped on. His Companion, Melah, still wasn't fit to ride for another week or so. There wasn't enough time to wait around for her to heal.

I couldn't quite read his expression, but I got the feeling he was just as happy to see me as I was to see him. Which was, not at all. He handed me the reins to the mare gruffly and mounted up.

"You can handle your bags, right? I'm going to run Pitch around a bit, and see if I can't sooth some of the fire out of him. He's a bit too high spirited for the drudge this day will probably be." And with that he took off at a gallop.

_Great damned fool is going to jostle loose something in him and start bleeding again, I just know it_, I thought to myself. It had only been a day since I'd healed him, and it had been utter torture to wait even that long. The anxiety in my stomach was like a cold, hard stone, but not only for the sake of suffering children…I was also anxious about the close proximity to Daimon I'd be in. Three days. At least he would be in pain. That might mollify me a little bit. I mounted, my mood as dark as a great black cloud, and trotted a little north. Within a few minutes Daimon had raced back into my line of sight, and Pitch was blowing his breaths out in great, satisfied gusts. His rider looked a little green and a little white, and was, obviously, in pain. I rolled my eyes.

"I shouldn't have done that," he said, mostly to himself. His left hand dropped from the reigns and slid to his side. He winced.

"Oh come here." I said in exasperation, leaning toward him and placing my hand to his injured side. I saw bruises. I saw a little bleeding but not much. I saw he'd managed to crack a rib besides his preexisting injuries. _Stupid man. Now we'll have to go even slower! _With a tiny needle of energy I stitched what he had managed to tear loose, but his battered body wasn't cooperating very much. It would take time for the rib to heal, and it would have to mostly do it on it's own. If I mucked around inside him too much his body would just shut down, and a piss poor guide he'd be to me then.

He read the fury in my expression and scowled. "Well, Pitch DID need to blow off some steam. There was a log in our path and instead of going around it I let him jump it. I wasn't sitting right because of the pain in my side, so the landing jostled me just wrong, right into the pommel. I overdid it, obviously."

"Obviously." I repeated, looking away from him. I just had to deal with this. It wouldn't be long. Three days. I could do three days. Well, three and a half now that he'd done this. Blowing up at him wouldn't help, and I probably would say more than I needed to. Daimon looked at me, opened his mouth as if to say something very angry himself, but closed it instead and pointedly looked away from me.

Once we had left the clearing where the field hospital had been set up, we started following a little road that Daimon recognized. The road was even but very narrow, lined with forest so dense that hardly any light filtered down to us. We went single file, with the injured Herald leading and setting the (painfully slow) pace. It was monotonous, just the sound of the horses hooves, our own breathing (Daimon's a little wheezing on account of his cracked rib) and the jangle of the horse's tack. After at least five candlemarks of this, I realized I didn't want conversation with my unwelcome guide, but it was getting hard to keep up the silent treatment. I wasn't a child, after all. I could be civil. I willed myself to be civil.

"How are things on the front?" I begrudgingly asked. He started a little and looked back at me warily.

"There's a cheery subject," he muttered. "Put simply, not good. I think we're losing soldiers and Heralds faster than they can be replaced, and there are a lot of youngsters and oldsters hitting the battlefield. Too young, and too old. We must be bleeding the whole country dry of mature and healthy men and women. We're barely holding the line. As soon as someone falls from an arrow or the sword we gather them up and take them to a rest spot behind the lines. You know we've got quite a few of your kind roaming about up there for the more minor wounds we all sustain. I don't know what we'd do if the field hospital hadn't been set up. Anyone too badly damaged goes to you folk, and we hope they go home to their families instead of to an early grave, but we rarely hear from them again."

I shrugged. "For the Heralds at least, they'd just make you limp to Haven, I suppose. All the way to the Healer's College. Good luck with that."

"Yes, I suppose so. And we don't have to ask if a Herald makes it or not. We…we can all feel that. It's a loss we all have to bear." Daimon was silent for a time, his gaze turned inward. The he turned a wan smile on me. "At least it's a little easier with Heralds like Anna up there with us. Her gifts are well suited for the complications this war has brought on us. She's a blessing."

"Don't talk about her, please." I whispered. Daimon's eyes grew sad, he looked concerned. I felt my face flush and I looked pointedly at the path ahead of us.

"But she…she's my…" he pushed.

"I know what she is to you." I said. "We're done talking about this." I thought of the chain in my saddlebag. I thought of Sweetwater. I tried to stop thinking entirely.

As we continued on the road in awkward silence a wind began to blow up. By dusk the wind brought rain – I pulled my heavy wool cloak tight about me but within a candlemark the wind and rain was more than just that, it was a proper storm. Daimon groaned, and even that small sound out of him irritated me. I wished he weren't here; it would be enough to take care of myself in this crap. The light was fading, and we needed to seek shelter; no sleeping under stars tonight.

Daimon spotted the cave before I did - well off the road, spacious enough that it would accommodate us both. Its mouth arched open, framed by big fir trees. I would have to sleep within feet of him. I thought of the chain. I thought of Sweetwater. Grumbling, I dismounted and headed for shelter.

………………

A/N – Ok, onto my favorite chapter! This one was necessary, but the next one…3 3 3 ! Enjoy! R/R!


	4. The Secret Sympathy

IV – The Secret Sympathy

I thought back to that cold, spring morning where Anna lived in my memories. It was always at the heart of my joy, that memory. When nights grew long and my mind refused to slow, when terrible flashes of the mutilating injuries I'd seen seared through my mind, threatening to crack open my sanity, I would summon that day to soothe me. It was an antidote to the worst agonies life could throw at me. Sometimes I feared what I might do if I hadn't that memory…even as it was tinged with as much sorrow as joy. I may be strong enough to unshakingly reset a dislocated bone, to be in the screaming bloody mess of this war…but nobody survives a war completely intact. And my memory of her was a tourniquet to a bleeding, pathetically wounded heart.

She'd forced me out into the bracing air, that day. Calling me a lazy cat, shaking my insides with her bell-like laughter. What's the worst that spring could do to you? She'd asked. I'd protested that it would still be spring after noon, but she'd narrowed her eyes and forcefully removed my sheets – thereby leaving me with no option but to get dressed and follow her outside. I'd bundled up in all the winter garb I had, and she'd taken nothing but a light shawl, just to shame me. Yet, I would brave the cold and the glaring light of day for her, and did, still grumbling.

As the memory unfolded in my minds eye, I remembered exactly every second of it, vivid as always.

We walked under the drooping boughs of cherry blossom trees, heavy with buds. Birds had only just begun to wake, chirruping here and there in the thick bushes that lined the orchard. Her family grew apples, cherries, and hazelnuts. We met on the first day I'd started at Sweetwater Manor…I'd been in the kitchen, scrubbing some dishes, and she'd noticed the way I watched the cook spicing her soup pot. She'd just come in for a snack. When our eyes met, she'd smiled, and turned to the cook, telling the old hag that I should be apprenticed…and after that I was. And we'd become friends. Despite the fact that she was the highest ranking woman in the household besides her own mother. She was heir. Someday, this would be _her_ manor. Yet she ever treated me as her equal She went so far as to get me my own small room, and she had a habit of buying me presents of clothing and soaps and even a chain necklace that very Christmas.

The frost crunched under our feet, I remember, and we talked about nothing and everything for a while. Her latest sewing disaster (she was no good with a needle). My hopeful plans for the vegetable garden once the days of frost were past us. She held my hand as we walked, and against the cold of the morning she felt like the only real, warm thing in the whole world. When she looked at me her face was wreathed by the dark curtains of her hair, partly tucked under her shawl. Her eyes were full of merry fire, warm as nutmeg. Cheeks and nose burned a brilliant pink. I laughed at her, and said she looked like a painting. She didn't understand me but she laughed and managed to blush an even deeper pink. Rightly, she assumed it was a compliment.

Suddenly, she stopped and turned me to face her. My breath caught in my throat as it often did around her. How innocent we must have looked – two young women strolling along a country path, holding hands. The insanity of my affection sprang upon me, unbidden. It's longing, it's forbidden entirety. She saw it in my eyes, I feared. Smiling she took one of my hands and placed it against her still burning cheek. I was frozen so still.

"You will always be mine, won't you Holly?" I didn't move. Was there anything to say to that? My mind groped about awkwardly, hoping not to embarrass her with love. Surely she couldn't mean anything by that. I wanted to pull her to me. To trace the delicate lines of her face, but I merely let my hands drop to my sides. Out of her too-tender grasp.

"I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that. And if you wished me to swear allegiance to you again, in this stupid freezing orchard with a bunch of birds as witnesses, I would." I grinned. There. Not too much of a confession – loyalty can't be faulted anyone of the household.

"Even if…even if I have to go away?" she whispered.

I felt my stomach clench into a sudden, tight fist and a shiver chase up my spine. "Where?" and then, voice a little panicked, "When?!"

"Hush! Someone will hear us!" She took my hands into her own again. She was still whispering, her breath puffing in clouds. "I've been…summoned. To a college of sorts. It's all still confusing to me too, you understand. I have responsibilities I wasn't aware of and…well, dearest, do you remember that horse we saw on the hill?"

I had remembered. It was white, and such a beautiful creature, with tack on it so fine it would surely fund a feast or two at any noble house. It had looked quite intently at us, and then sauntered off. The animal had been such a long ways away from us I figured it must belong to someone of Qell, the neighboring lordship.

She smiled a little sheepishly. "Well, that was a Companion. My Companion, Avar."

It all clicked, quite suddenly.

"You've been chosen." I said, my voice cracking a little. It wasn't a question. I'd heard of people being chosen before…when a Companion left Haven and traveled as far as necessary to find a future Herald, to bond to them, to bring them back to the capital again. There they'd be trained in the use of whatever Gifts they possessed. But this was my Anna. "You're going to Haven! Oh, you're going to Haven without me. With your…Companion. To become a Herald! But I can't come?"

The realizations were like waves; joy with one, sorrow with the next. She watched this. The pain in her expression was so gut wrenching it forced me to do the only thing I could. I smiled at her, a joyous, welcoming smile. I was happy for her, truly. She wanted so badly to escape court life. Here was her chance. She was so much more than heir to her father's title. As a Herald, she could do a lot of good. I was dying inside too, a great horrible darkness was growing somewhere in my middle and threatening to eat me alive. To not see her face. To not hear her, or smell her, or touch her. But if my hurt caused her pain, then I couldn't let that show. It was very simple really.

"You will make a brilliant Herald." I said, genuinely. She would. She had more compassion in her little pinky than I'd seen demonstrated in any other one human being. And levelheaded – she could stare down an army.

I grimaced, and worry for her safety made me grip her hands tighter. "You'll be safe? You'll not take too many risks?"

She laughed again, lightly, as though she hadn't just ripped out the bottom of my world. "Avar assures me that training will take at least a few years, and even after that I'll have a year of interning before I'm ever allowed anywhere near battle. By then the Karasites are sure to have given up on us." She looked again in to my face, searching it. She reached up to touch my cheek again.

"I needed to tell you, before I go, that I love you."

I stared blankly at her. I'd heard wrong, of course. It couldn't have been that. I'd dreamed that…that she would say something like that…but never like this. My thoughts whirled entirely out of control, dizzy. She frowned a little, then took my face in her hands, tilted her sweet face toward mine, and kissed me.

It was better than I had thought it could be. Her lips tasted a little like apricots. Hesitantly I wrapped my arms around her middle, noticing the way my rough hand rasped on her soft dress. I kissed her, so gently. I stopped thinking entirely. No sense of caution. No awareness of the outside world. We were in our own whirlpool – the world revolving around these bare seconds. I felt her lips part a little against mine, and she curved her body against me, closing the slight space there. She moved a hand to the back of my neck, bracingly cold. I felt the tension of her body. It was vibrating like a harp string. Mine was too. I felt jubilant, and fearless, and eager. If it weren't for a treacherous gust of wind we may still be kissing to this day. As it is, the breeze pulled her shawl off her head and made both our skirts flip upward. Laughing we let go of each other to push them down, and she chased down her shawl, which had caught in a bush not a few feet from us. We looked at one another once we were sure our dignity was intact.

I immediately doubted the moment we had shared. The kiss. Was I sure I hadn't instigated it? No, I had never had the guts to show any of my feelings to her. She had taken action. Then had I somehow misinterpreted her intentions? I was only…well, me. But there was no missing the look in her eyes now. Or the need that kiss had held. It was beyond my understanding, but…it was real. She had kissed me. When I hesitantly smiled at her, she quietly laughed.

"So it's like this for you too? How wonderful." she breathed, her eyes still hungry. "A shame I didn't say anything earlier. If I'd known that you could…that you felt…"

It was my turn to blush. "Oh shut up, Anna." I said, shocked at my own bold words. "Like I would have assumed you, a proper Lady, would feel anything for a little worthless pot-scrubber like me. And I still don't." I still wasn't processing things completely. It was too like a dream. "This is…impossible. You can't know how much I…how I want you to be…for me. You can't know how long I've thought about you. But I shudder to think what your father would say. And anyway, you're…"

"Don't you go insulting yourself just because I love you." She repeated, focusing only on the beginning of my babbling objections. I wasn't sure what to think about that word. Love. I knew how it applied to my feelings. Heart wrenching. Mind blowing. It covered the butterflies that choked my throat closed when she smiled in my direction, the bliss I felt at hearing her footsteps outside my door. Even the mad daydreams I would have, of us together, of living a life where no one would judge us and we were free. But what could she mean by using it? She continued, frowning at my failure to tease her back. "If I can't convince you by my actions," she whispered, "let my words do the same. I never thought that women could feel like this. No one told me they could." She said this slowly and in a dead whisper. How heavy the awareness was upon us…how obvious it was that the things we felt, that we'd shared moments ago, were deeply forbidden. "I've pined for men before, but when we became friends, it was quickly obvious to me that I felt…more for you. More than friends. And you're right in one thing; I know what my father would say. Worse, what he'd do.

I've thought about this a lot in the last few days. Avar came to me two nights ago, and I've been arguing with my father ever since. We've determined the role of heir will pass to my sister, Leahan. She's still young enough to learn all she needs to know.

I have to go, after all. Once you're chosen, there's no returning to the role you had before. And we'd all known something was…off with me." she was talking so fast, and began walking again. I followed her. We were headed back to the manor and I wished we wouldn't. If we got inside I knew she'd stop talking. Yet she continued to explain, highly agitated, "Just a little. That's my gift, it turns out. All those headaches I get? And remember how I told you sometimes I think I'm feeling what you're feeling? Avar calls it "Empathy" and says that probably in a year or two I'll be able to do that with anyone. Or with everyone. And he said that there are some potential things in me, like maybe I'll be able to move things just by thinking about it. Some other things too, things that frighten me. But he'll help me with that, that's why I have to go be a Herald, to do something good with these…gifts. They'll teach me how to use them at the Collogium. The things I can do right now aren't much yet but he says if I don't go now and learn how to control it…he says I might hurt people. So you see, I must go.

And now that the burden of being heir has passed from me, and I know I'll be leaving behind my father's expectations…I certainly could be selfish."

She stopped walking again. We were within sight of the manor. Her face drew near to mine, eyes full of conflict. It made me burn to see desire in her when she looked at me. She bit her lip, glancing toward the low collection of buildings, the glass windows brightly reflecting the sunlight.

"I could be selfish," she repeated quietly. She stepped toward me so we were toe to toe, and put her cheek against mine, breathing deeply. I felt her breath in my hair, her arms lace around my waist this time. I rested my head on her shoulder and held her to me, but did no more.

"I'd like to be selfish." came her whisper, very close to my ear. "I'd like very much to…to kiss you again." But she pulled away, suddenly, shaking her head and glancing again at the manor. The windows seemed to watch us. "I may be out of harm's way, but what of you, dear Holly? He can disown me if he likes, it makes no difference to me now. But if he knew we were anything more than what we 'ought' to be, you would have no position in this household. What would become of you?"

"I could follow you. I would follow you anywhere." I flinched at how servile that sounded, but it was painfully true.

"You can't come. I won't allow it." Anna said gently. "You have a place here, and if you were to follow me you would have to find a new one, with a new household. Would you truly want to leave the friends you've made? The promise of the life you could have here is better than anything I could offer now. They don't keep servants in the student dorms. And what of your training with Mother Bea? You've only just begun to learn the names of herbs. How would you feed yourself and make a life?"

I wanted to push the subject, to make her see that I would go anywhere to be where she was. In the back of my mind I bristled a little…why didn't she think I could handle myself in the big city? I was smart, I would find a way. But it was clear to me that she'd made up her mind. I saw that it would only hurt her to force me into this new life she was being promised. I would be a tag-along. And a reminder of everything she'd had to leave behind. At that moment the cold reality of her departure came like a punch in the gut.

"How long until you leave, then?" I asked her, pleased with the even-ness of my tone. She needed me to be strong.

"This afternoon." Her eyes brimmed up with tears and she kissed my cheek. "Promise me, then, you will continue your studies here? That you'll…that you'll think of me?"

"Of course I will." I nearly choked on the words. So soon. I couldn't prepare. How would one prepare for something like this anyway: for when your heart leaves your chest and rides off into the sunset? I needed to be brave, I reminded myself. She was so brave, she would go with her Companion and start a new life, so I would be brave here, and just…keep living. Without. "You don't need to ask me to promise."

"And do you…do you feel for me, like I feel for you?" She whispered earnestly. How could she look so worried? As though I could refuse her? As though I had ever done anything but love her the moment I set eyes on her?

"Always." I had said simply.

We held hands and walked back to the manor, each of us digesting the intensity of what had transpired. She assured me she'd visit at Midwinter, and once each summer. With the war on, Avar wasn't sure her studies would allow for breaks any more frequent than that. It was essential she don the official, White uniform of a Herald as soon as possible. The lives of many were at stake.

"But you will be with me always, in my heart, Holly. The last thought when I close my eyes, the first when I wake." She had whispered as we reached the door. I loved her so much then, so ridiculously that I wanted to catch her by the hand and run away with her that moment. Yet, my practical-self recognized how silly I was being. Letting my emotions get away with me like that. I was young; surely it would hurt less in time. I smiled at her beautiful face, and touched the chain she had given me that hung around my neck.

"You will always be with me too, Anna." Anna, my dearest. My love. My heart.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

A/N – (sigh) I love love. A free piece of art to whoever first gets the reference made in the title. No fair if you google it. Of course, I'm assuming I'm talking to someone other than myself in these author's notes…we'll see about that.

Enjoy the next chapter. I start out with a pretty good punch to the gut.


	5. Ouch

V – Ouch

I looked over at Daimon. The fire was bright and I could see his eyes watching me wearily. He was going to say something. I wished he wouldn't.

"I'm going to marry her, you know." He didn't mean it as a challenge, I could tell from his tone that he meant to say something more graceful but for some reason he had blurted out the meaning instead of all the frills. I enjoyed his discomfort, a little. Maybe I made him kind of nervous. I had demonstrated my own magic prowess on his wounds just a few days ago and again earlier today. Perhaps he hadn't really understood what "Healer" meant until his wounds were no longer gaping, bleeding agonies but puckered, pink skin, new and soft as a baby's bottom. I'd done that. And sure he had his own heroic magical abilities. But I had had his life in my hands. And he seemed unsure how I would deal with…with Anna getting married.

I stared into the fire, hoping my silence was answer enough for him. Infuriatingly, he continued to eye me, waiting. Could he know how I felt? Could he know how my heart stopped beating the moment she had turned her eyes from me?

"I'm going to be honest with you Daimon." I said, surrendering to his obvious demand for conversation. "I don't know that I can be happy for you. For her, maybe, I will try. I'm glad that she has found happiness. But…" …but there is a gaping hole in my heart that nobody can fill? But sometimes I want to rub your face in the dirt, in the hopes it makes me feel a tiny bit less miserable? There wasn't a tactful way to finish the sentence, not that I knew of. I tried again.

"I respect you. I respect relationships. And what is most important, I respect Anna's decision. And I hope that that is enough for you."

"I don't want to make you sad, Holly." Daimon said in a low murmur. His exhausted, gravelly voice sounded so worried. What right did he have to be worried about ME? To…to pity me? The fury boiled up inside and burst out my mouth.

"Well it's a bit late, isn't it?" I hissed, turning my face away from him and busying my hands with unpacking my blanket roll from the saddlebags. I couldn't seem to stop talking. "What could you want me to say? Sorry, I saw her first? I'd like to say that, but it's not my choice. It's hers. And don't you realize I've been trying to be gracious about this? That I've been trying not to make it hard on you two? You have a life together. I can see that, and I know I'm not as important a part of her life as you are. I can't make it otherwise, so I have no choice but to accept it. But don't make me pretend to be happy I about it. Don't push me, Daimon."

"Holly." he said, his voice more than a little shocked. At first he had looked…relieved? Where had that come from? But as I neared the end of my outburst his face was a mask of confusion. "Do you…wait." He paused briefly. "Are you…?" He looked at me as if he were seeing me for the first time. I realized, then, that he hadn't assumed my relationship with Anna was anything more than friendship. His obvious discomfort made me laugh – a sharp, barking thing that I hardly recognized.

"Yeah, I am. And for that matter, yes I do. Congratulations, Daimon. You'd uncovered the great mystery that is Holly."

"But…wow. I guess I thought…"

"Yes, it's an easy thing to mistake." I snarled. "Not that I…we really have a choice about it most of the time. What with people throwing ripe produce and all."

"I wouldn't throw produce at you, Holly. I just didn't guess that that was how it was with you two. I…I totally misread this situation. I thought…but are you two like that?"

"Well," I nearly choked, "That's how it is with me at least." I couldn't continue. Until that moment I hadn't realized how much Anna's love for this man had felt like betrayal to me. Hadn't she said she loved me? Hadn't she wanted to know I felt the same way? And what did that mean to her, that she had ditched me for this buffoon?

There was a long silence then, of course. I pulled out my blanket and laid it as close to the fire as I dared, my back to Daimon. The chain was in my fist, and every now and then I turned over a link between my finger and thumb. Cold and hard and beautiful. The wind screamed past the mouth of the cave, but thankfully not _in_. We'd had little kindling besides what we could drag in from outside, and that was wet. Eventually we got things burning properly, but it was still difficult getting warm in here, no matter the blanket or the fire or the horses lying in the back, dead asleep. Being all emotionally tangled up didn't help. Talking about Anna and her great love for this man was like tossing salt into an open wound. I could pretend it didn't hurt if it was Anna I was with, but anyone else…the pain was unbearable.

There was no reasoning with my stupid, blind love. Not her reams of correspondence in which she wrote of all the things I wouldn't and couldn't experience with her in Haven. She wrote about it all, promising me gifts from the big city. I received a few, but the trinkets didn't make her feel closer. And she wrote about her training, what it was like to share the Collogium with the Healers in green, the Guards in blue, and her fellow Herald Trainees in their grays. My love didn't even waver when she confessed falling for a classmate, how they rode together on their Companions and talked about classes. I loved her still when she wrote of how attractive he was, especially those eyes. Eyes to match the uniform, a dove grey. Not miles and miles of distance, not tears or wishes or anything thus far had changed my feelings a whit. I was bound to her so painfully, so tightly that struggling only seemed to make it worse. Then, when I myself went to the Collogium and began my training, this man (who I hadn't recognized from Anna's descriptions) began to fawn over me. And then he dispised me, ruined my life. And then…my mind was spinning, my chest ached, I hated remembering it all. All the gory, ridiculous details.

Anna told me that he had been riding with her every night since the two had met. One night, she had confessed her feelings for him. When he realized she cared for him, he had recognized his feelings for her – apparently so much deeper than the mouthed sweet words he had whispered to me over the past year. He hadn't dare even confess to himself how he'd felt. Teenagers are so quick to flit from one 'love' to the next, after all. When I had spurned him he'd swore he'd never love another. But Anna, his perennial friend, hadn't allowed him to shut himself up in his room. She'd continued to pester him, and then told him how she'd felt. Anna had explained all this in a letter to me when she was first sent to the front…she got her Whites two years before I got my Greens. Daimon never apologized for his actions…for the hazing, the emotional manipulation. There was no point to it, he'd found the love of his life.

Surely Anna had told him about me. About our childhood together. Much more, it seems, she hadn't bothered to mention. And why should she? I was part of her past, and his. A person who had been part of a sweeping emotional landscape; important at the time, but pale and dim now that the present filled their eyes. A present that was painful and difficult, fighting in the war. But they fought together, side by side. And their future…marriage. A home. Children.

I didn't want to be near her. When the cook had suggested I go to the Collogium, I knew where I was going. I was going to be by her, but never with her. See her, but never be seen by her in the way she'd seen me that cold spring day so long ago. It would be better if I stayed far away from her, away from the constant reminder of the future I'd lost. But stupid, broken heart – I couldn't help but be near her. It was beyond all reason. I felt as some patients had described when they lose a leg or arm…how they can still feel it, they know it's gone but it's as though it's there and still hurting. That was the pain of my love. She was gone from me, forever, but I still loved her and needed her. So I went. So I bore the agony of being with her and totally without her. And she was there, but she wasn't. Both our lives were filled with school with training. But while she was out frolicking with Daimon, that same bright, beautiful lad was torturing me. Anna didn't make the connection, and I wouldn't make it for her. I bore it in silence. When at last he realized his love of her, they were a week from being given their whites. A week…and they left for the front. But I had two more years of being blamed, and no friends, and teachers hating me. And no Anna.

It was torture, knowing she was in danger, helpless to stop it. I begged for the field hospital assignment as soon as I'd gotten my full Healer's Greens. I had threaten to burn them right then and there, if they didn't let me go. She was out there, struggling, in harms way. If someone was going to tend to her…if she got hurt…I would heal her. I had to be the one. So here I was. And here he was; the man who got everything I could never have.

What might hurt more than the love itself was the fact that she was not similarly bound. She wasn't pining for me, longing after me, missing me. She was happy. She was whole. She had found someone else. It was a pain so depthless, so without boundries sometimes I was certain someday I would succumb to it and my heart would simply stop bothering to beat.

The fire burned down a bit and I heard Daimon settling himself down into his own bedroll in the darkness. I heard him gasp once – he must have brushed his side against an outcrop of rock and I almost asked him if he was ok. Almost. It was only the impulses of a carefully trained Healer, not compassion. He tossed about a little bit and seemed to settle in. I just lay there, looking into the fire. His question startled me when it whispered into the darkness.

"Do you love her, then? Is it terribly hard for you?"

I waited a minute before answering.

"Yes."

"I know it doesn't help anything Holly, but I'm sorry," he said. And I could hear he meant that. I didn't want to think it, but I knew Daimon meant to be a good person most of the time. I hated that that was true. It wasn't his fault he ruined my life and my dreams and everything.

It would be so much easier if he were a cruel, unlikable person. Like the person I'd known back at the Collogium. But he wasn't, not since he'd fallen for Anna. He was kind, and gentle, and well intentioned. They would go off and have a perfect little life together when this whole war was over.

"Thanks anyway, Daimon. Now go to sleep." Was all I could manage, and I firmly closed my eyes, hoping sleep would take me quickly, to stop all the stupid thoughts in my head, and to push back the sudden urge I had to cry.

……………………………….

A/N – at last, you understand the full angst involved here! Did you like that? Did I tear at your heartstrings? I hope so. Get back to me on that.

Next chapter (which is yet to be written…I know! Don't worry, I wrote this whole fic so far in three days. I've got it covered) will have dear Holly trying to save the lives of children. What's torturing them? Will Anna absolve Daimon? Will she move on? Will she ever be loved back?

All this and more in the next chapter of…A Hearth to Warm Her!

(BTW, the title comes from Magic's Pawn, of course. Little Hearths. Big Hearths. Hinting at some lifebonding here, are you picking that up, dear imaginary reader?)

r/r, wait a few days, then continue!


	6. Welcome to Aathgar

Chapter VI : Welcome to Aathgar

The morning brought to light exactly how severe last night's storm had been. Enormous firs littered the forest floor, revealing a sky still bruised but no longer threatening rain. At least we hoped no more rain. I shuddered to think what would have happened to us both had we attempted to set up some kind of camp outdoors. Crash, and splat goes the Herald. It was a good thing Holly had a sound head on her shoulders and had been willing to sleep in that small, cold cave. We'd both be dead, certainly, and then those children would have no hope of a quick rescue.

:_Melah? Darling?_: I mindspoke to my Companion. I felt more than heard her drowsy grumble. I'd woken her, yet the sun had been up for at least an hour. Those stables were so different than sleeping on the cold, rocky dirt of the front lines. Rest at the field hospital had softened her. She was such a lazy horse.

:_Not horse._: she muttered, rising to the bait.

:A_t last you've rejoined the world._: I teased. :_How was your beauty rest my sweet equine queen?_:

:_Fitful. Did you know there was a bit of a storm last night?_: Melah said blackly. She hated how cheery I was in the mornings. :_All I heard for most of the night were tents flapping, rain pounding, and those brainless horses on the other side of the stable snorting and stamping in fear. I had good reason to sleep late with that awful racket all night. Also, I'd like to point out that you slept in far longer than me when we first arrived here._:

: _Well, yes, in a manner of speaking,_: I thought, adding the mental equivalent of rolling my eyes, :_but I was_ unconscious. _That's not the same as sleeping._:

:_You're splitting hairs._: Melah cooed. I could hear her voice strengthen as she shook the sleepiness from her. Arguing was one of her favorite pastimes. :_I'm injured too, remember?_:

:_Yes yes, your poor foot. Who knows how you'll survive._: I heard Melah whinny in indignation at my laughter.

:Y_ou underestimate what lameness means to one of us, little Daimon. I can't carry you, for one. And a Companion that can't walk is nothing more than a very large doorstop. We can't be put in wheeled contrivances like you humans can. Well…perhaps we could, but it would be large, awkward, and useless for combat._:

She had me there so I let the matter drop.

:_The field hospital is mostly intact then?_: I asked :_You're not buried in the rubble of that rickety stable?_:

I felt Melah's smile. :_'Rickety' it's not - it withstood the storm with minimal damage. Being in a field helps. There aren't many things to fall on you here. There were a few rips in a few tents, but nothing needle and thread can't fix. If a healer is good with anything outside their profession, it's sewing._:

:_Sounds likely._:

:S_o are you starting out on your second day already?_: she asked.

:_Already? Hah. We've been riding for a full candlemark _already.:

I'd had to wake Holly in the darkness, insisting we had little time. I'd slowed us down plenty, but now even the weather was against us…it had left us a veritable maze to weave through on our narrow path. She had pressed her lips into a tight line, but agreed. There was enough light in the predawn haze for the horses to pick their way between, around and over the storm debris. Besides, I was past the point of trying to win her approval. Obviously she was not a morning person, but as long as I was only adding to the tab of things she didn't like about me, I didn't much take her discomfort into account. Those children were far more important.

:_Has she not forgiven you your Collegiate indiscretions, Chosen?_: Melah inquired, following my thoughts. I had her share my memory of last night. How I had revealed my plans for matrimony (well, Anna's and mine, it's not as if getting married had been all my idea). How Holly had reacted so guardedly. I'd sensed so much sadness and pain from her that it even hurt me too. Finally, I showed Melah how I had pressed Holly into her own confession…that had surprised me. Which had offended her further.

:I_'d merely thought that somehow she had developed some feelings for me, after all. I thought that was why she didn't bless our union_.: And he had felt so relieved when she'd made it clear that wasn't the case. It would be awful for him to reject her, a strange reversal of one of his more painful memories. He'd never guess that it wasn't him Holly had feelings for.

:_Are you sure you weren't hit in the head when that mage stabbed you? Why would Holly feel anything but dislike for you after all the cruel tricks you played on her? And hadn't she made it clear she wasn't interested in you a very long time ago?_:

Oh yes, there was that. But Anna, who had stayed in correspondence with her childhood friend, had never even hinted at Holly disapproving of their relationship before. Yet from the moment he had recovered his senses Daimon had sensed her powerful dislike of him. It rolled off her like a thick fog. It nauseated him.

Sure, it had been crazy to think that Holly might have come to like him, after all that he'd done. But…well, he had met the love of his life. He truly had. And there was some guilt, there, for the cruelty with which he had treated Holly. More than "some." He had, at one point, believed he was in love with her. And her rejection had been so crushing, so complete…well, it wasn't an excuse for all the pranks he'd pulled, and the blame he'd cast on her. But Anna had often harped on how alike she and Holly were. He hadn't imagined that someone so close to his beloved could so dislike him; the object of her affections. And when he'd first felt all that dislike for him, he'd thought perhaps Holly was simply furious that he'd chosen Anna over her. Things were much more intelligible now.

Clearly he'd underestimated her emotional strength, to go through all that teasing, and still "respect" him as she herself had said. Her intense dislike of him now, and its reason, was so much more unsettling than he could have imagined.

:_Chosen, you have to make the best of it. She's a powerful Healer. She's all the help you've got with you now, anyway_.: Melah's regret at her injury was clear. He gently reassured her.

:_I will always have you, Melah. Like it or not, you're in my head for good. And yes, she is powerful. She's proved it to me twice over.:_

He'd been assured that Holly was exactly what he needed, and surprised to find that she was the one who had cleaned him up after they'd arrived. She could be as unfriendly as a Karasite, Healer Tory had said of Holly. Off-putting in her always business-like manor. But she was powerful, and a huge asset in a tight spot.

:**_Focus on the road!_**: came Melah's sudden shout. I instinctively tugged at the reigns of Pitch's halter, just in time to stop the horse from attempting to leap an enormous fallen log. The stupid creature. Our sudden stop had threw me into the damned pommel again, but not with the force of yesterday's incident. Still, it sent a shockwave of pain through my chest and I felt all the air leave my lungs in a great whoosh.

Holly had already dismounted and begun to lead her mare around the obstacle. She glanced back at me, but seeing that I recovered my breath and began to also dismount, she continued on her way. No matter how slowly I moved, the pain was sharp and blurred my thoughts.

:_You OK, love?_: came Melah's worried voice inside my mind.

:J_ust trying to make myself more of a nuisance I guess._: I gritted my teeth as I led the horse around. :_Do you think it's working?_: Just then, as if on cue, Holly cast another glance at me. I felt her irritation like sandpaper against my brain.

:_If those were her feeling I got through you just now, I think you're doing fine._: Melah giggled. :_With all this horse trouble I'd think you'd hardly ridden a day in your life._: she added.

:I_'m merely used to a mount who has some sense. When I'm on your back I don't have to worry you'll run off and dump me on the ground, or toss me about like some rag doll. Or, at least, you'd warm me first. Wouldn't you?_:

:_Perhaps, if you continue to stay in my good graces_: Melah said archly. Then I felt a little wave of concern from her. :_In all seriousness, how do you think you're handling this? Your shields aren't what they should be right now. They won't be until you're better healed. This…dislike she's radiating must be pretty draining to you._:

:_Yes well, I've dealt with far worse. It's not a concentrated attack, just a very loud, very impassioned broadcast. Yes, it's draining. It makes me feel…like a worm. It hurts a bit, but I'm not entirely without protections. Plus, it seems she has some restraint at least. Nobody's trying to murder me, yet._:

:_Don't think she's up to it?_: Melah joked dryly.

I was around the tree, and back on my horse. I watched the back of Holly's green robes as her mare plodded along the path. She would move out of the way the second I sensed the village…I knew we were going the right direction, although the surroundings were far less familiar since the storm had crashed through here.

:_She's a healer. She'd never harm me._: I thought. And she wouldn't, right? A love like she'd confessed...

What she'd told me in the cave had been difficult to hear. Her anguish was obvious. But the things she felt…any Empath would have difficulty blocking it out, much less an injured, half-shielded one. I had asked, hoping she might confide in me somehow. If there was a way to ease that burden, short of leaving Anna, I would. Holly's dedication to Anna had always been obvious, and now it's reason was as well. Love. I'd had drawn into myself in the face of that fierce fire of love which had blazed up as Holly thought of Anna. _Then along I came, ruining everything._ Could Holly feel more than just dislike toward me, but malice as well?

…No, she was a healer. She'd just try to kill me with her gaze and settle for that.

It did make for an uncomfortable, and painful, day, though. The next wasn't better from the outset. And then, around mid afternoon on that third day, with no real warning at all, I started to hear the screaming again.

There were so many of them. Their cries blended into one another in a never-ending wail. Holly heard me stop and she quickly turned her horse around to face me. Her eyes latched onto mine, then widened into saucers. Her mouth moved but nothing seemed to come out. Or maybe something did, but I couldn't hear. It was so deafening, the screaming, I automatically covered my ears. That didn't help. I felt the bile rise in my throat, my stomach heaving. How could it be so loud? How did I stop it?

:_I can't shield you from this distance, Daimon! DAIMON CLOSE YOUR MIND!_: far away I heard Melah's panicked voice. She was so quiet I could barely pick her words out from the throng. Like a whisper in a thunderstorm. I vaguely tried to string together a thought of my own, but it was no use. I was incapable of proper thought.

And then came the pain…it was so much worse than before. It was unbearable. The pain consumed my mind, crushed me beneath its weight. Every muscle tightened as I tried to fight off the brutal onslaught, to piece together the shredded remains of my shields. Useless, all useless. Distantly I felt my body slip sideways from the horse's saddle. Felt myself falling. I was lost in the screaming black so entirely that I never felt myself hit the ground. Then there was nothing.

………………………

I watched Daimon's face distort into a grimace of agony.

"Is it the village? Are you feeling them?" I asked. He gave no sign of comprehension, but wrapped his arms around his head. He started to moan…a low, whining noise that no human should ever make. Sensing what was coming I quickly dismounted but he was on the ground before I could catch him. His whole body had gone rigid as a board. Pitch bucked once his rider was off, and then sprinted into the forest. The damned horse had probably been waiting for his chance all this time.

"Daimon! Daimon come back to me here!" I shouted. Although the situation was horrifying, I was perfectly calm. This was my job. To be the calm one. To assess the situation and rectify it in whatever way I could. I pried open one of his eyelids, but his eyes were rolled back into his head. He was unconscious. There was clearly something going on in his mind, something that hurt unbearably. It looked like a seizure, so I pushed him on his side. If he vomited at least he wouldn't choke on it. His rigor prevented me from prying open his jaw to see if he'd swallowed his tongue or not, so I merely watched him as I tried to devise a way to bring him out of this state. If I were a mindhealer I would be of much more use in this situation, but my Gifts didn't extend to the complexities of thought and emotion.

_Alright. If it's the village that's causing this, and he seemed fine (if quiet) up until a few minutes ago, then perhaps distance is the solution._ That made as much sense as anything. He'd said he'd felt their pain and heard their cries before. He'd never mentioned it causing him to convulse or lose consciousness like this, but it was all she had to work with. I had no way to free him if this were some kind of magical attack, all I could do was hope that a change in environment would mean a change in his status. But to move him was breaking a cardinal rule of medicine; never move a victim unless absolutely necessary. His spine is fine though, I can feel that. Whatever else is true, his body is in the same state it was before he fell from the horse. The pain is within his mind. That settled it.

I ran to my mare and pulled her alongside the fallen Herald, unstrapping her saddle with deft fingers. Daimon was remarkably heavy, and a full foot taller than me, so hefting him across the mare's bare back was no mean feat. My sheer determination helped. The little mare whinnied and rolled her eyes, but didn't pull away from my hand. I led her as slowly as I dared in the direction we had come. I could only hope my guess was accurate. I had no way to know.

A full candlemark later, Daimon showed his first sign of life by quietly swearing and moving his hand toward his head. I stopped the mare and slid Daimon's body to the ground, into my lap. He opened his eyes and looked in my direction but couldn't seem to focus properly. I could see he was trying to move his mouth to form words, but shushed him.

"Rest." I demanded. "Save whatever you need to say for a bit. You just fell from your horse an hour ago and had some kind of seizure. I don't know what that was but give your body and your brain a break."

He stilled a little when he heard my voice, closing his eyes and whimpering a bit. _Cats, whatever that was sure shook him._ I thought. I busied myself with feeling for his pulse. It was strong, but galloping at an absurd pace. I encouraged his heart to slow and it gradually did. Once it was within a normal range I withdrew. Night was falling, and camp would need to be made; a proper shelter to help keep Daimon warm until he was on his feet again. Which I hoped was soon, because I had no idea where I was and had no way to send for help.

I had started gathering large branches to form a lean to when he spoke.

"Ow." he said.

"Something more helpful than ow?" I prodded, kneeling at his side. I'd propped up his feet, put a cold compress on his head, and covered him with my own blanket (Pitch, of course, had run off with Daimon's bags still strapped to him). The Herald slowly opened his eyes, but this time there was sanity behind them. He pinched them shut again and groaned.

"Ow, why are you shouting at me?" he said pitifully, pressing his hands on his ears again. I laid my palm against his forehead, feeling deeply concerned. A slight fever, but not too serious.

"I'm not shouting. What made you…fall?" I whispered. I remembered, belatedly, that he was a mindspeaker and could Hear my thoughts. I tried to think quietly too, but was unsure how to go about doing that.

"The village." he murmured, confirming my suspicion. "It's worse now. Melah tried to stop it, but I'm weak and…oh ow. Seriously."

"Then you can tell me more in the morning after you've rested." I said, starting to move away. I needed to finish that shelter. Suddenly Daimon was standing in front of me, gripping my arm and holding me still. His grasp was crushing.

"NO!" he shouted in my face. "We have to go now! There's no time! They hurt so much! We have to stop this! It's…"

"Daimon," I said in a soothing voice, "you're breaking my arm. I can hear you. I understand." He let go of me immediately, shock briefly crossing his face, but he didn't move. He was shaking with emotion, a bit of that madness back in his eyes.

"We have to go now." he repeated, crossing his arms as though he didn't trust himself to keep from grabbing me again. I realized there was no way to argue with him in this state. I needed to try anyway.

"Won't you just go all stiff like that again if we get close? It was pretty amazing you didn't sustain any injuries from that last fall. I need you intact Herald. Focus here."

"I…Holly, I'm sorry I scared you." He seemed to actually look at me for the first time. "I'm trying now, to shield. It's…cats it's difficult. They're…Holly, they were so loud. We're far enough away that I can hardly hear them anymore but that entirely broke my shields. I'm naked right now." His hand went to his head, and he started to rub at one of his temples absently. His eyes were very far away. I hope his Companion is helping. I worried. It was so frustrating to witness an illness that I could not combat.

"Melah says your right." Daimon said after an interval, his voice startling me with its ferocity. "But I'm not going to say here tonight. We have to push on. Melah stop arguing with me!" He shouted at the air. "I'll get the shielding, I'll make it somehow."

"You can pull from me." I said quietly. He focused on me again, frowning a little. I saw the debate in his eyes.

"I might have to pull…a lot." he admitted, hesitation in his tone. "But if it looks like you're getting too tired we'll stop for the night."

"And then what? You'll spiral out of control again? Daimon you can't do that. I don't know how to pull you out of it. We'd lose any progress we'd made."

"Do you know what nightshade looks like?"

I did. It grew year round, deep in the wild forest by Sweetwater. A fairly common plant. I learned of its uses while studying at the Collogium, of course.

"You want me to drug you?" I asked skeptically. "I don't see how that would help."

"It will block my sensation of pain, I'll be able to focus a little better. I can regain some strength, rebuild my shields and then repeat the process."

"Yes, but it will also put you in a coma." I stated flatly. "And nightshade has a cumulative effect, I would only ethically be able to dose you once…any more and I would poison you."

"Well you're a Healer aren't you?" he snapped, "dose me, and when it's been a candle mark or so, flush it from my system and heal me! I don't care how many times it takes. We need to get to the village as soon as possible. You need to help them. I couldn't reach them, there was only the pain, their minds…there was nothing there. They're insane, Holly. Those children, every last one of them, have been driven insane. They nearly did the same to me."

I felt my face go white as a sheet. No wonder he was willing to die to get me there.

I didn't like this idea. It felt too much like suicide on his part…with all the injury he'd sustained so far he was in a fairly weak condition to begin with, and this new strain on his mind would surely effect his body in negative ways soon enough. The fever was proof of that.

He saw that I would go along with his plan, and nodded grimly. So it was decided. I ran into the woods. With the last light of dusk I manage to gather a decent bundle of nightshade, and a few other herbs that would come in handy. Feverfew, for the fever already beginning to ravage his body. Digitalis for his heart…if my own reserves were being drained, I may need chemicals to help stabilize that most critical of organs. When I had gathered all I could manage I carried it to the horse and shoved it all in a saddlebag. Daimon had crawled onto the horse's back, the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. He was beginning to shiver.

I clambered behind him.

"Thanks, Holly." Daimon said. I didn't respond, my arms wrapped around his middle. Already I felt the power being sucked from me; not a powerful pulling, but enough. At least I could be useful in this scenario. Hopefully Daimon wouldn't kill himself in the process. It was, I recognized helplessly, mostly up to him now.

…..

A half a day later we dragged ourselves into town. He had been able to direct me in a fashion, but he was so weak that he couldn't speak, and had instead placed the images into my mind as deftly as though I had been imagining them all along. Even while in the coma state he did this to me, but then they were blurred, difficult to interpret.

The first time he intruded on my thoughts I had been so shocked I had tried to "push" him from my mind. It was the grossest invasion of privacy I could imagine. My "pushing" had made him shout in pain, and we'd had to stop so that I could dose him with the nightshade again. From then on, when Daimon entered my mind I opened it to him and let him fill it with pictures. I wouldn't be the reason he lost this battle. He showed me which direction to turn. Landmarks we would pass like especially tall trees or once a boulder to our left. Some of the landmarks had been changed or felled by the storm, but most were still recognizable.

Once we came near the village, the familiar scent of blood filled my nose. Old blood, spilled and left to dry for a few days. And once the main street was in sight the reason for this was obvious…there were bodies everywhere.

It was a massacre.

_And the children? What about the children?_ I wondered, looking open mouthed at the carnage all around me. Not just adults; men and women, old folk, babies. Animals that may have once been pets. They had not just been killed. They'd been maimed. Limb torn from limb. Skin torn from muscle torn from bone. And blood, it was…I had never been nauseated by blood before. But the sheer amounts that had been spilled, splashed on walls, dragged across doorways…

I vomited on the side of the road, my body heaving. I could not escape the smell. Once the crippling sensation passed I got my head together and took the horse by the reins, but it wouldn't move. It was too frightened. Any sane creature would be.

There was little I could do in the way of searching for the children. Dawn was breaking, but the oncoming daylight had no effect on the death-like exhaustion that made my body feel like a lead weight. He had drained me nearly dry, and still, he needed more. While scanning the carnage I saw one building had a familiar shape to it. An inn. I pulled Daimon's body from the back of the frozen horse and dragged him into the structure. The common room, too, was a mess of corpses. I brought him to the first open, ground floor room I could find and firmly shut the door behind me. The occupant of this room must have made it at least to the hallway, for there was no blood in here. I dropped Daimon on the thick straw bed and then allowed myself to collapse limply into a chair nearby. The exhaustion threatened to take me right away, but I pushed it from me. I could do this. I'd ignored my own exhaustion many times for the sake of the patient.

When I inspected Daimon I was surprised at how much…better he looked. There was color in his cheeks and he was breathing evenly. He even, briefly, opened his eyes to give me a look of startled pleasure.

"How did you find a shielded room?" he breathed. His voice was gravelly and low, but remarkably strong. Exhausted beyond all measure, yes. But not on the verge of death as he had been minutes ago.

"It is?" I wondered. What kind of luck was that, to stumble on a magically shielded room in a tiny town like this? Maybe it had something to do with the children. I felt, suddenly, very apprehensive about our chosen safe haven, but it was all that I could manage. I had nothing left to give. For now I would simply accept the shielding as a blessing of the Goddess and hope that when we woke up, if we woke up, the creator of that shielding wouldn't be too put off about us borrowing his room. I was too tired to follow the train of thought further.

"It's tight as a drum," he whispered. "I can very nearly hear myself think. Don't have the energy to do even that, though. Not really."

"Then we sleep." I said, in a tone that meant if we don't sleep this very moment I will simply fall unconscious anyway. "And see who we can find…alive…in the morning."

Daimon's snores agreed with me. In fact, I'd barely finished the sentence before I started to lose my own tiny battle. One of my last thoughts before sleep stole me away included a memory of a sign we had passed. Just before I smelled the blood.

"Welcome to Aathgar." It has declared.

Welcome to the nightmare. I groggily thought, descending into a grey, dreamless state. A town of nightmares. And who knows what tomorrow will bring.

..............................................................

a/n:  
…and there's chapter 6 for you. Dear, sweet readers, I'll have you know I'm not sleeping normally anymore. I'm trying to reset the whole nocturnal rhythm I've got going here, but…well, it seems that writing wants to happen between midnight and 7 am. What's a girl to do?

I want to figure out what happens just as much as the next guy. To be fair, I know what's going to happen in a larger sense, but the little details unfold themselves.

Let me know what you think of the change of POV. I thought it would help to get a better sense of Daimon as a character, the better to empathize with. Especially to get a sense of his relationship with his Companion, and to hear his side of the whole "everyone loves Anna" debauchel.

So please, read and review. I beg this every time but really. Please. I am more than happy to rewrite large sections to make them better, as long as it doesn't sacrifice what I consider essential to the story's soul.

till next time! Keep a weather eye out….the next chapter will be written within a day or so! And for all our sakes, I'll try to keep it a bit shorter!


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